


Luck of a Loser

by LostLoserrr



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, IT movies
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Fluff, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Reddie, Richie Tozier Being an Asshole, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostLoserrr/pseuds/LostLoserrr
Summary: The Losers Club had many traditions, and as they grew older, more and more were added. What started as habits became unspoken promises between them that were both essential and assumed by all 7 of them. From the inaugural first day of Summer being spent at the Quarry, to meeting for breakfast before their first day back at school.There was one tradition, when enacted upon for the final time, that changed everything.





	1. New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please give any constructive feedback! 
> 
> I have a plan mapped out for it but happy for suggestions :)

The Losers Club had many traditions, and as they grew older, more and more were added. What started as habits became unspoken promises between them that were both essential and assumed by all 7 of them. From the inaugural first day of Summer being spent at the Quarry, to meeting for breakfast before their first day back at school. 

There was one tradition, when enacted upon for the final time, that changed everything. 

\-------------------------

The Losers were ringing in the New Year as they always did, in their clubhouse. This year was different as they’d challenged each other to swipe a bottle of booze from their respective parents for an extra special celebration. Eddie had reluctantly agreed, hoping he’d be able to find something that wouldn’t be missed by the watchful eye of his mother. He hit the jackpot when he found a dusty, forgotten bottle of sherry that was hidden at the back of a cupboard. The rest of the group had managed to collate a variety of different bottles, some half full, some not yet opened.

“Nice going guys! We have a respectable little bar going here!” Richie beamed as he flipped a plastic cup in the air, catching it expertly. “What’s your poison?” he asked Eddie, leaning on the makeshift bar looking a little too much like a seasoned bartender. 

“Uhhh I dunno, something sweet?” Eddie replied, he’d drunk alcohol before but only beer. He wasn’t a fan of the bitter taste that everyone seemed to love so much, but he was feeling the buzz of excitement in the air and was keen to join in. 

“Naturally” Richie winked and began mixing various different spirits - he was moving so quickly Eddie could barely work out what he was adding. A splash of rum - provided by Ben, a tipple of the gin Stan brought and a generous drop of Bev’s tequila. It was when he went to add a shot of the cheap vodka Richie himself had contributed, that Eddie intervened. 

“Whoa Rich are you trying to kill me? How strong is that?! I said SWEET” Eddie began to rant, Richie grinned and winked again “Trust me, Eds”. Eddie looked unamused but his curiosity and the fact that he truly did trust his friend kept him from protesting further. Richie topped off the potion with a can of Diet Coke, carefully tilting the cup as he poured to prevent it from fizzing over. He grabbed a straw and placed it in the drink with a flourish before holding it out to Eddie. 

Eddie hesitantly took the cup from him and placed his lips around the straw. He took a sip, expecting the bitter flavours of the spirits to burn his tongue, to his surprise he could barely taste any alcohol at all and the sweet flavours coated his taste buds as he swallowed. 

“H-how did you do that? There must be so much booze in this but I can barely taste it” Eddie asked dumbfounded, eagerly taking another sip. 

“Easy there Spaghetti - there is! I just know you don’t like the strong stuff much so I made you an Eds-friendly cocktail” Richie’s eyes didn’t completely meet Eddie’s as he said this, and he kept his hands busy by fixing himself a drink. 

Eddie didn’t recall ever sharing this fact with his friend, and became conscious that he was too easy to read. If his friends could figure out details like his preference in beverage without him telling them, what else had they deciphered? He had always had very little control over his face when emotions surfaced, he could put a mask on or paper a smile on his lips when required, but it took concentration. If he was caught off guard or forgot himself, his face disobeyed him and told the world how he really felt in that moment. Eddie was eased out of his reverie by Richie still jabbering on as he worked. “I’m limiting you to two so make the most of it, they’re stronger than you realise and I don’t want you getting too out of it”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this. It wasn’t unusual for Richie to says stuff like this to him. Richie was by far the most irresponsible of the Losers, at times even reckless, but when it came to Eddie he was different. He was cautious, protective and caring in ways he never was when it came to his own wellbeing.

“Whatever Trashmouth, you’re just worried that after a few drinks I’ll be the life of the party and steal all of the attention away from you" 

“Eds you wound me” Richie feigned offence by taking in a shocked gasp and placing his hand on his chest “I’ve gotta see this party-animal Spaghetti you’ve got hidden in there, you’ve been holding out on us”. His eyes shone with impish pleasure as they always did when he was teasing his best friend. His expression changed as he seemed to realise something, as though a penny had finally dropped. Eddie was quick to notice and said “What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, concern coating his newly broken voice. 

“Did no one notice?” Richie said calmly, and at this he had the rest of the Loser’s attention.

“What?” Ben chimed in, looking around the clubhouse cautiously expecting something to be out of place. Bill’s stance had changed instinctively to defensive at the change in tension in the room. 

Richie backed slowly away from the bar, his friend’s bodies turning to watch him as he did so, increasingly on edge at this shift in behaviour. 

Richie suddenly broke into his biggest shit-eating grin and leapt back into the vacant hammock “That you guys were so focused on getting shitfaced no one called the best spot in the clubhouse!” 

The collective groan from his friends fueled Richie as much as their protests of “Fucking Trashmouth” and “You asshole, you had me worried” did. He sat triumphantly swinging in his sneakily conquered throne. He turned his face to Eddie, who was still sipping his new favourite drink and smiling smugly, “What are you so happy about Eds? You don’t think I’m gonna share do you?”

“Oh I think you might consider making space for me” Eddie laughed. He picked up Richie’s abandoned cup from the bar, gently shaking it in his direction, “You forgot something”.

“Fuuuuuck” Richie cursed, but with very little persuasion he made a small amount of room on the hammock and tapped the fabric, inviting him to join him “Fine, but bring supplies with you as I don’t plan on moving until next year.” 

Eddie scoffed at the awful New Years Eve joke, but obliged. Ignoring the beer that Bill had brought and he grabbed the whisky Mike had stolen from his dad and a couple more cans of Diet Coke. He placed them on the floor, within easy reach of Richie and started to gently lower himself into the other side of the hammock.

“There’s no graceful way to get in a hammock Eds”, Richie teased and pulled his friend into place, causing the fabric to swing steadily. Eddie blushed and adjusted his position carefully before gently swiping his socked foot into Richie's face. "Asshole" Eddie mumbled, but he leaned back, feeling content with the softly swinging motion, the warmth from his friend beside him and the excitement of possibility rippling through his body. 

He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the anticipation that always filled the air this time of year, but he was hopeful that maybe this year, for the first time, he may receive a kiss at midnight.


	2. Hangover Cures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie woke up to Bev poking him in the ribs, the volume at which she spoke his name gradually increasing in an attempt to rouse him. “RICHIE!” she whispered loudly, giving him a particularly hard jab. 
> 
> “Jesus, what’s your damage Bevvie?” Richie grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He groped around on the floor below the hammock, knocking over a variety of empty bottles before his long fingers found his glasses.

Richie woke up to Bev poking him in the ribs, the volume at which she spoke his name gradually increasing in an attempt to rouse him. “RICHIE!” she whispered loudly, giving him a particularly hard jab. 

“Jesus, what’s your damage Bevvie?” Richie grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He groped around on the floor below the hammock, knocking over a variety of empty bottles before his long fingers found his glasses. 

“Shit” he cursed as he put them on quickly and glanced at Eddie quietly stirring opposite him, hoping the noise hadn’t disturbed him. He smiled as he saw his friend hadn’t woken up but had an angry little frown on his face as he mumbled something between light snores. 

Bev snapped her fingers in his face, bringing his attention back to his unwelcome wake up call. 

“We gotta go, get up” Bev said impatiently. 

"Whyyyyyy?" Richie whined, resting his head back on Eddie's foot. 

"Seriously? You ask me for help and now you're giving me shit?" Bev smiled as he looked up at with a look of hungover confusion. 

"Bill's birthday present! You asked me to help you find something for him?" she waited for the penny to drop.

" Ahhhh fuck" Richie said rubbing his eyes, "can't I just give him an IOU?" 

"No! It's his 18th, you need to put some effort in, like you did at Christmas" she responded whilst quietly moving the empty bottles to somewhere out of Richie's clumsy reach. 

"Fine, but how exactly am I supposed to get up without waking sleeping beauty over here?" He pointed to Eddie, who was tightly cuddling Richie's calf as he slept. 

"We'll just have to wake him up too" Bev reasoned, approaching the hammock again, poised to poke Eddie awake just as she had done to Richie. 

"Don't you dare! Let him sleep, he is gonna feel rougher than I do when he wakes up" Richie smiled over at him, chuckling at the small puddle of drool that had formed on his sock where it met Eddie's mouth. 

Eddie stirred again, releasing Richie's leg and turning to face the other way. Richie lifted his leg, stretching and shaking it gently to try and restore some feeling to it. 

It took him a good 3 minutes to carefully extract himself from the hammock, Beverly holding it still whilst silently giggling at Richie's slapstick-like attempt to get up without waking anyone. When both his feet finally hit the solid floor he cast a look back at Eddie, still sleeping soundly, and let out a sigh of relief. 

He pulled on his shoes quietly whilst Bev tapped her foot impatiently. "Hang on just one more thing" Richie hissed quietly at her. He grabbed a bottle of water and a couple of painkillers from his rucksack before scribbling a note and leaving the items next to the hammock.

"Right, let's go" he said, grabbing Bev's hand. She glanced back at the note and saw Richie's scruffy handwriting reading 'Sorry for the hangover Eds. Drink up'. 

She smiled at Richie, "no hangover cure for the rest of the losers Rich?" 

"I thought you were in a rush Marsh?" He said dragging her out of the clubhouse and into the sunlight. 

"Urgh" they both groaned as they recoiled at the brightness and crisp air. "Maybe I'm feeling a little more fragile than I thought" Bev rubbed her temple and put on her bright red, heart shaped sunglasses to block out the glare from the midmorning sun.

"Come on, I'll buy you breakfast seeing as you're helping an old man out" Richie said doing his best Southern gentleman impression. 

They walked the mile or so into town, laughing as the memories of the previous night came back to them. All of them had gotten extremely drunk, and at one point the six boys serenaded Beverley with a terrible rendition of Africa by Toto. Richie had revelled in his role as a bartender, but never strayed too far from the hammock he shared with Eddie, resulting in lots of spilled drinks and eye rolls from Stan. 

They hadn't even reached midnight by the time the bottles of booze the losers had collected were down to the dregs, with the exception of the untouched Sherry Eddie had smuggled away from his mother. 

Not wanting it to go to waste, Richie announced they were going to play 'Never Have I Ever', where your punishment for leading an adventurous life was a shot of the sickly sweet spirit.

It was at this point that Richie and Beverley's hungover minds hit a wall. Try as they might to unfog the memories of the more outlandish questions asked and those who did and didn't drink for them, the details still eluded them. 

They sat down opposite each other in a vacant booth of their favourite diner, smiling at the familiar face of the waitress. 

“So what are you thinking?” asked Bev, her red curls peeking over the top of the huge menu. 

“Bacon pancakes and coffee blacker than my soul” Richie said both in response to Bev and the server. 

“I meant for Bill’s birthday present” chuckled Bev, “I’ll have the same please, but with a cappuccino, my soul isn’t quite as dark as Richie’s” she said smiling to the waitress. They thanked her as she went to relay their orders to the kitchen. 

“I honestly have no idea” Richie put his head in his arms, returning to the matter at hand. “What have you got him?”

She pulled out a framed picture of the Losers Club, taken in the clubhouse shortly after it was completed. 

“Laaaaaame” Richie laughed, dodging the gentle punch on the arm Beverley directed at him. “Well at least I’ve got him something, you’ve only got a few days left, you need to be quick”. 

“You’re supposed to be helping me Marsh, not making me feeling even more guilty” Richie groaned. 

“Ok, well let’s start with your budget, how much you got?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation in a more productive direction as their pancakes and coffees arrived.

Richie pulled out his wallet and emptied the contents onto the table in front of them, catching the quarters as they rolled near the edge. He counted out the dismal amount, putting a few dollars aside for the breakfasts and a tip leaving a grand total of $2.52. 

“Christmas was expensive!” he said with his mouth full of food and shrugged at Bev, who rolled her eyes. He’d gone way over the top for all of them this year, insisting on making them all stockings, hanging them in the clubhouse and filling them with a their favourite things.

“You’re too generous for your own good Trashmouth” Bev laughed, moving the money he’d put aside for their food back into the middle “breakfast is on me, no arguments!”. 

Richie was about to object when his phone dinged, he pulled it out and saw it was a message from Eddie. He opened it and smiled at the picture and the accompanying caption. Eddie’s usual tanned face was pale, his hair a mess and eyes tired and red; he was flipping the bird at the camera for good measure, the message underneath reading ‘I hate you’. 

Richie turned his phone to Bev, who pulled her face into a sympathetic expression. He was about to type out a reply when Eddie messaged again, ‘Thanks for the water and painkillers :) they actually really helped x’. 

‘Anytime Eds, I always gotta look out for my number one <3’ 

He put his phone back in his pocket and turned back to his food, pushing it around his plate. 

“I’ve lost my appetite” Richie said with a strangely solemn smile. 

“You ok Rich?” Bev asked as she finished her pancakes and closed her knife and fork. 

Richie fixed his face into a wide smile and went back to his Southern Gentlemen voice “Why of course Miss Marsh, I’m mighty fine this winter morning! What do you say we get outta here and see what we can rustle up for Mr Big Bill Denbrough?” 

Bev put enough cash on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip and stood to leave, laughing as Richie bowed deeply and took her hand, leading her out of the diner. 

"We'll find him something" she said, linking arms with him "Don't worry".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is any good so any feedback is appreciated :) I swear I'm going somewhere with this!


	3. 17 photographs

Eddie woke up long before he opened his eyes. He was apprehensive to subject his retinas to the pain as he could already see the light shining through his eyelids, and the red they blanketed his vision in was preferable to the bright detail of the clubhouse in carnage, bathed in the morning sun. 

As he scrunched his eyes shut and turned onto his side the hammock swung, and he realised his best friend was no longer sharing it with him, leaving a cold space in his absence. He was trying to process all of the new and unpleasant sensations crashing over him. He had a deep, pervasive headache that spread to the muscles in his neck and shoulders and his mouth was so parched he felt like even a single drop of water would be a blessing. And his stomach...it felt like a pendulum swinging steadily between nauseous and hungry; the thought of food both appealing and revolting at the same time. 

He blinked slowly, allowing his pupils to adjust to the light, and took in his surroundings. He could make out Bill and Stan squashed onto the grubby couch in the corner, both snoring silently and in sync. Ben and Mike were making good use of the many bean bags and oversized cushions the Losers had collected for the floor of the club house, both still sound asleep with a Beverly sized gap between. 

At first Eddie assumed that Bev and Richie had gone out for a cigarette, but soon realised he would have been able to hear them talking outside, or at least smell the smoke drifting into the room. He pulled out his phone and checked the time, the digital clock shone 9.34am above a number of texts and missed calls from his mother. He swiped them off the display and opened up his front facing camera. He examined his face on the screen with mild disgust, before sticking his finger up at the phone and taking a picture. The loud shutter sound pierced the quiet of the clubhouse and Eddie froze, looking around at the remaining Losers to see if he had disturbed them. They were apparently dead to the world as none of them stirred. 

Once he was sure he was still alone in his wakefulness, he placed his phone to silent and took another photo. And another. He took a total of 17 slightly different photos, trying to make his hungover state resemble something at least close to his usual attractiveness. He scrolled through them and settled on the least offensive one, opened it up and sent it to Richie, followed by ‘I hate you’ for good measure. 

He moved to place his phone on the floor by the side of the hammock when his hand grazed something that wasn’t there last night. He shifted in place to see what it was, picking up the bottle, the note and the painkillers smiling to himself. He opened his phone back up and fired off another message to Richie, who instantly replied. Eddie smiled at the ‘<3’ symbols Richie had used to sign off the message but told himself they didn’t mean anything, or at least not anything that Eddie wanted it to. 

He locked his phone and rested his head back, closing his eyes. Eddie had known for a while now who he was, but he was yet to share it with anyone, even his best friends. He knew they wouldn't mind, that they would support him and love him no matter what, but the fear was still there. Telling them that he was gay would change everything, and he liked how things were. He didn't want Richie to suddenly feel weird about things like sharing a hammock or teaming up for chicken fights in the quarry. 

Those moments with Richie meant more to him than anything, and he'd promised himself long ago that he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise them. It had been harder lately; they were all growing up and inevitably talk had turned to sex, Eddie was pretty sure that he was the only one of the Losers that was still a virgin, but whenever the subject came up he would make up an excuse to leave.

It was about to get a lot harder for Eddie. As he looked down at the messy note and took a long gulp from the bottle of water, grateful for the quenching relief in his throat, his mind relented to his heart as he finally accepted that he had feelings for his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is only short but I wanted to update! 
> 
> Will update again soon :)


	4. Thrift Shop Frivolity

Richie and Bev’s shopping trip had proved less than successful, so for the third day in a row they were back gift hunting, this time lazily browsing the shelves of a thrift store Bev’s aunt had told her about. Bev had pointed out a few things that she thought Bill would have liked but they were either too expensive or just not quite right. 

“No way!” Richie laughed, as Bev held up a particularly tacky shirt to her slight frame, “unless he’s planning on taking some style tips from yours truly I don’t think he’d be too thrilled”. He took the shirt from her, looking over pattern of pineapples wearing sunglasses approvingly before reluctantly returning it to the rail. 

There could not be a worse combination of people for this task; their search quickly devolved into a competition of who could find the most ridiculous outfit. They split up, and agreed to meet at the makeshift fitting rooms ten minutes later. 

Richie sauntered around the store, winking at the elderly lady refilling the shelves as he passed her and smiling to himself when she tutted and moved back to the counter. He perused the rails, looking for inspiration among the beige waistcoats and dull blazers. He was hoping for a garish shell suit, or even a pair of polka dot pants, but the men’s section was proving to be a lot less adventurous than the usual thrift shop fare, the closest he’d found to weird was a tattered, old, off-white clown suit with red pom poms down the front and ruffles at the neck and cuffs. ‘Borrrrrring’ Richie thought. 

Then he spotted it - a wide grin spreading across his face, resisting the urge to laugh out loud at his own luck and comedic genius. He looked around to make sure Bev hadn’t spotted him and tucked it under his arm when he saw the coast was clear. He shiftily made his way back to the fitting rooms, slipping inside a vacant cubicle and closing the ugly curtain behind him. 

He shrugged off his shirt and baggy jeans and awkwardly maneuvered the garment over his head, struggling to do up the zip in the small space. “Richie” he heard Bev whisper from outside, “is that you in there?” he could hear the slight giggle in her voice, and responded “Marsh you have no chance of winning this, let me know when you’re ready for the big reveal!”. 

“Bring it on Tozier” she laughed as he heard her move into the cubicle next to him. After a few minutes of shuffling and giggling, both cubicles were quiet for a beat. 

“You ready?” they said almost in unison, “On the count of 3” Bev offered, “1...2...3” 

Richie yanked open his curtain and hopped outside his cubicle, turning to face Bev with a dramatic pose, complete with jazz hands. Bev had performed a similar reveal, but neither could hold their composure for long as they caught sight of each other. 

Bev had found a pair of brightly coloured, flower patterned pants that despite their elasticated waist included straps to hook over her shoulders. She’d paired it with a blouse that clashed entirely and would look at home hanging either side of an old woman’s windows. She finished the ensemble off with a huge hat that looked like it had been worn just once to the wedding of someone the previous owner must have held in some contempt. 

Bev was at a disadvantage in this competition; there wasn’t much she couldn’t turn into a fashion piece, even unwillingly. Her red hair and slim frame just seemed to go with everything. And she certainly looked more stylish than Richie in a huge, puffy sleeved eighties wedding dress. 

“Where did you find that?!” she howled, clutching her stomach as she bent over in fits of giggles. Richie twirled around theatrically, showing off the generous bow embellishments that had been haphazardly attached to the skirt of the ugly dress, causing Bev to collapse into fiercer fits of laughter, struggling to catch her breath. 

She composed herself from the floor and mock bowed several times, conceding victory to her friend. 

“Now I just need to find myself a husband!” Richie teased in his favourite Southern Belle accent, clutching his hands to his face with a mock dreamy look on his face.

“Oh my dear,” Bev said, playing along “we’ll make finding you a suitor our number one priority”. 

They laughed as they took it in turns to twirl and dip each other, out of beat with the elevator music the thrift shop was piping into the store. It was at this point the old woman had abandoned her post at the counter, looking for the unacceptable source of frivolity taking place on her watch. She rounded the corner, spying Richie first, her sour expression turning to one of frigid horror. 

“How DARE you! Take that off and get out of here before I call the police!” she screamed at him, turning a deep shade of purple. Bev and Richie hurried back into their respective cubicles, hastily changing back into their original outfits whilst the woman continued to rant. They were still giggling as she herded them out of the store, cursing them as they went and banning them both for life. 

“Aww I didn’t get a picture” Bev sighed, “you’ll just have to promise to wear a wedding dress when you do actually get married” 

“IF I get married” Richie said, picking at his chipped black nail polish, “it’s just a piece of paper and a whole lot of hassle” 

“Oh please” Bev said rolling her eyes, “you can’t fool me Trashmouth, I know there’s a lonely romantic in there somewhere” she poked at his chest. 

Richie stayed uncharacteristically quiet, which prompted Bev to stop him for a moment.

“Hey, you just have to find the right person, obviously not for marriage but you can still date without ‘signing a contract’" she smiled, using air quotes, "My offer still stands if you want me to set you up with one of the girls from my design class” 

“Those girls are the worst” Richie groaned, “the last party they were at one of them cornered me and spent the whole time bitching about her friends, AND they were rude to Eddie, they were laughing at his fanny pack!” 

“In their defense, they’re fashion students” Bev laughed “and you give him shit about his fanny pack all time!” 

“Yeah but that’s different, Losers can tease Losers and Eds knows I’m not serious, I love his fanny pack - wait, he knows I’m not serious right? ” 

“Yes Richie, I’m absolutely positive Eddie knows that you are never serious, we all are” Bev smiled reassuringly. 

“Ouch Red” he elbowed her, with pretend offence as they rounded the corner to her house. 

“Think about it” she said as she pecked Richie’s cheek goodbye, “and think about Bill’s present! We’re not meeting until 5pm tomorrow so that’s prime shopping time” 

For a blissful moment he’d forgotten about this stupid gift dillemma and now the stress of potentially letting down his friend was back. 

He pulled out his phone as he slouched back home and typed out a message.

‘Eds, I need your help’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include more Richie and Bev dynamic as I love their friendship and can totally imagine them both wreaking havoc in a thrift shop. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr or drop a comment :) https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lostloserrr!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to update this weekly if people are interested, I just need to figure out how AO3 works :)


End file.
